Of War and Chaos
by urfriendlyneighborhoodpan
Summary: "Your existence is a burden on me." AU (Grimmnel) (Implied mature themes).


**A.N.** **: Nelliel being the goddess of war and Grimmjow the god of chaos.**

 **I do not own _Bleach_.**

* * *

"Your existence is a burden on me," were her very first words to him.

His temple had not been built yet, and so he'd made the marshes his home. His bed was made of fallen leaves along the banks, canopies of feathery trees his drapery. His clothing was made from the very ground—that is to say he had none, enjoying the cool spring mornings and the heat of summer nights against his flesh. He'd stretch out on the ground and to this day he had not found a more comfortable way to sleep. Sprites skittered around him but he'd pay them little mind, something about the air made him hazy, muscles loose and relaxed and unbothered.

When she found him, he had been sunken waist deep in the water of a warm pond and his skin was burning. He had only existed for a year or so, every sensation as new to him as could be. And so seeing another of his kind for the first time was striking, bewitching even. A part of him was certain he'd never seen anything more beautiful than she—her silken locks, her dark skin, her wide and gleaming eyes, her rosy cheeks and the lashes that kissed them—and so hearing her speak beckoned from him the very first thing that came to mind.

"I exist only for you," he'd replied.

.x.

Following her was only natural. He needed to be taught and she had allowed him to string himself to her.

"We wear clothing," she said as they entered her magnificent temple, its cadaverous walls echoing back to her. Her faithful servants appeared in an instant to wash him clean and wrap him in fine cloths, to mark him as man but not man. "You are a god, and gods are more than animal."

"I've known nothing but," he said. "I rose from the ground."

"You rose from war, humans died where you lied. You are a product of disorder and chaos. That is your reign."

.x.

It was nearly a decade before his own temple was built, but it was nowhere near as grand as hers. In fact, it was built just off hers and within walking distance. This may have caused her some irritation, as he often wandered back in on a whim and without warning.

"You must control yourself, and watch where you step," she told him, aggravated. "Destruction follows you wherever you go. Humans will perish and crops will dry, whole societies will collapse if you are not careful."

That amount of power, he thinks, should not be handed out so easily.

.x.

"And what are we?" he asked, trailing after her as she headed into the forest. "If you represent war and I chaos, wouldn't we be connected in some way?"

"In some ways," she allowed patiently, a trait he was surprised she attained a short time ago. "Just as order is your companion, and peace is mine, you are a part of me that is both inevitable and also completely avoidable. Unfortunately, the humans have not learned how to achieve the latter."

"Until they do, are we not bound?"

"We are."

.x.

Nearly another decade passed before she appeared at the entrance of his temple to say, "Come with me."

She led him to the highest mountain in the area and gestured out to the land. Far, far below, a battle had commenced between armor-clad humans, and one side was gaining the upper hand quickly.

"This is what we cause," she told him solemnly. "One side will win, but in its path they'll leave destruction."

She sounded troubled by this, but excitement brewed within him at the sight. "Are we allowed to join?"

She turned concerned eyes to him. "Why would you want to?"

He figured that this was where they differed.

.x.

"Stop this," she ordered, storming into his temple. "There have been enough wars, it is time for peace."

"You've no say over that," he replied evenly, lounging in his seat. "If they want to stop, they'll stop."

"They haven't the power to disobey a god," she hissed, standing over him. "What you say is absolute."

Again, he thinks this kind of power should not be handed over so easily.

.x.

"Tell me what it is I must do to persuade you," she pleaded, standing in his way when he tried to step out. "Tell me what I have to do to get you to stop."

"It's not as if you caused this," he said, but paused to hear her out. "You had no influence on me."

"That is what I'm afraid of," she murmured. "Why didn't you take heed to my teachings?"

The answer was somewhat unclear. He really didn't know why he hadn't leaned toward her ideals instead of his own.

"Do what you will to persuade me," he said, brushing past her. "You have more sway over me than most, know that."

.x.

It was but half a year before she returned, late at night. He had been lulling into sleep when she slipped under the covers beside him.

"What are you—" he began to say.

She shushed him, a gentle finger against his lips, and covered his mouth with hers.

It was the first he'd known of a woman's body.

And it was effective.

.x.

"It was an act of desperation," she said to him afterwards. "I'm not doing that again unless I have to."

"Call it what you may, you felt it, too."

.x.

It plays out in this way. Years pass where he doesn't hear a word from her, and just when the wars begin to hit a peak, she returns to persuade him back to compliance.

And compliant he was, softening underneath her in more ways than the one. He was reminded of his first years of life, where no strain hung over his shoulders and life was simple. Where his muscles were loose and relaxed and unbothered.

She made him that way and he wanted it as much as possible.

And so as long as she kept doing it, he would, too.

.x.

"You're being unreasonable," she said one night, one hand moving down his chest. "You know my conditions. A decade without war."

"Can you blame me?" he asked, threading his fingers through her silken hair.

.x.

Their temples eventually fell as civilization changed and grew, expanded beyond imagination. She ran to forests and mountains and seas and he followed her wherever she went, unwilling to let her from his sight for a second.

She was no better, insisting he remain where she can reach him when things became too unbalanced.

"Now, see," she said, "this is what happens when gods intermingle with one another too much. The order of things begins to depend on their unity until we are no longer able to be without the other."

"Convenient," he mumbled against the hot skin of her back.

.x.

"What an attractive couple," he heard an older human woman comment to another behind their backs. He smiled and laced his fingers through hers.

"You know for a fact we're not," she said, but didn't pull her hand from his.

.x.

"Is it wrong you're older than me?" he asked.

"Age is irrelevant to gods."

.x.

Their once great temples, what could have rivaled one another's at one time, had given way to tall buildings and bustling cities. They had taken to an apartment too near them and he quietly wondered about the marshes he used to call home.

"Are we irrelevant?" he asked.

"We still exist," she replied, turning the page in a book. "Humanity has not stopped believing in us. The only difference now is that they call us by a different name."

"And what's that?"

She smiled wryly. "Politics."

.x.

The one time they part, a great war explodes from the separation. She immediately appeared at the door and threw her arms around his neck and said against his mouth, "This is what I meant, this is why I never should have done that."

They both know what she means, but he doesn't regret a second of it.

.x.

"Your existence is a burden on me," she says, fingers intertwined with his.

He has watched great civilizations fall before them, the collapse of large nations, and he doesn't think he's seen anything more beautiful. It brings him the greatest pleasure, and he has no explanation for that.

All he knows is that being here, with her, means only his happiness.

He presses his lips to hers and replies, "I exist only for you."

.x.


End file.
